I don’t know if anyone will care about this but…

Creating comics, for me, is a calling.

See, when I was child growing up in the ‘hood, I was surrounded by powerful figures, heroes… that dominated the landscape and transformed a war zone into a playground.

They were big brothers, not always from the same blood, but still breathin’ the same warrior air… Like a royal wind, it flowed from them surrounding and uplifting us boys through the shaping years until we could stand strong and breathe deep manly breaths like they did.

And before them were the gods.

The superhuman… almost mythical beings that had built the ground we all stood on… that taught us the rules we would live by and exemplified them to the fullest…

The gods… that defied an oppressive, overwhelming reality, to create a new one, filled with hope and wonder, that would suspend our spirits and those of generations that followed.

I saw them with my own eyes… and guarded by my heroes, walked in their massive footprints…

I would come to know them… if one ever could, really…

It was overwhelming… and it was wonderful.

My calling is to share just a touch of that with you, just because it was beautiful… and comics are the best way that I know to do it.

Stories of heroes and gods.

Last week one ascended. One of the last larger-than-life figures of my childhood stepped off from this plain into a higher vibration… to the place where gods go.

If you read any of my works and are inspired at all, know that whatever it is came from him… and from them… the blood and the breath… translated to the best of my abilities.

Rest in peaceful power Wesley. Take your place in the pantheon amongst Rip and the others… the immortals…

This one's for you… on repeat...

~ grey